


Survivor

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Alternate Universe - Survivor Fusion, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, M/M, Minor Aiden/Lydia Martin, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Reality TV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gets on Survivor, but it’s not about winning the money. He doesn’t really expect how things turn out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Prompt #108 (Wealth) at fullmoon_ficlet. I was working on a different fic entirely when I had the whole scene with Stiles confessing why he wants the money pop into my head. And even though I have plans to write ANOTHER Survivor AU someday (much longer and more involved), this one kind of spilled out. It is unedited (SORRY!). As always, I do not own the world nor characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.

Auditioning for _Survivor_ was supposed to be a lark. A _joke_. Laura came up with Derek’s on-screen personality, all gruff and grumpy, the softhearted soul with a shell of sheer granite. They put him together like he’s one of the kids in her community college acting class, giving him a history and a backstory, and a reason to be there other than being out to have fun.

But the truth is, he has no need to be there, and while it is weirdly _fun_ , it’s also more stressful than he’d ever expected.

The hardest part is willfully tuning things out when he’s so used to paying attention. Like the little privacy tree they’ve set up for interviews, which isn’t exactly within earshot of the tribe’s space, but when Derek’s used to listening for odd noises, it’s all to easy to overhear.

“I’m not in it for the money.” 

He hears Stiles—flail boy, as Derek mentally tagged him on the ship out to the island that first day—speaking earnestly to the camera. He shouldn’t listen. He _knows_ he shouldn’t listen, but they also shouldn’t be doing a private interview when they know he’s out for water and the path goes right by this space.

“It’s just… I don’t want to be wealthy, you know? But when my mom died, we got stuck in a lot of debt. The bills, they really piled up.” Stiles laughs dryly, a little bitter, and Derek can clearly imagine the way he scrubs a hand across his face like he alway does when he gets embarrassed.

It’s funny how much the castaways have learned about each other this far in, isn’t it?

“So yeah, we had that debt, and Dad’s all I’ve got. He works really hard, and I got scholarships when I got into Berkeley, which is good. I mean, I can pay for part of my school, but not all of it. And there’s still some debt from mom’s death lingering out there, and some other debt from when I was in high school and I was knocked out during a lacrosse game.” Stiles sounds like his breath is tight, and there’s a soft murmur and silence before he goes on.

“I was knocked out,” Stiles says carefully. “So they did a brain scan—just normal procedure. And they noticed some shadows that they weren’t sure about, things that might mean I was starting down the same road as my mom. Fronto-temperal dementia. She died when she was young because she went so crazy that her brain just shut down. She was babbling about fairies and witches and ghosts when she died, and I remember that the last thing she said was _hi, Mom, I’m glad you came to get me, remember to take care of Stiles when I’m gone_ and then that was it, her hand went limp in mine and she was...”

There’s a soft hiccup, and Derek catches the scent of salt on the air. A muffled sound, and a small laugh.

“No, no, I’m okay. I mean, I was eleven then. It was ten years ago, so it’s been a long time. And obviously I didn’t actually have dementia since I’m still here and my brain isn’t frying itself in my head. But I just… Dad’s taken care of me for so long. And I just want to take care of _him_ now. I want to pay off his bills and set up some kind of investment so he can have a stipend and maybe retire before his job gives him a heart attack. Because I don’t want to lose him, too. So yeah. That’s why it’s important to me to make it to the finals, and why it’s important to win. Honestly, I can’t believe I’ve made it this far. My best friend, he’d say it’s shit luck, and if I get to do the friends and family challenge, that’s probably what he _will_ say. Scott’s awesome. And shit, I’m rambling. So yeah. Just edit that part out, okay?”

Derek means to leave, but Stiles is emerging from the trees too quickly and he runs smack into him, bouncing back off of Derek’s chest so that Derek has to catch his shoulders and keep him upright.

“Fuck, dude, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Water.” Derek points to the two jugs on the ground, then picks them up before Stiles can try to grab one and realize just how much heavier they are than anyone else could carry. “Figure I’d better keep doing my job or you guys might decide to vote me off.”

Stiles laughs, and if Derek couldn’t smell the salt on his skin he might not also notice the faint rim of red around his eyes. “Don’t worry, Abercrombie’s next. Either him or Lydia, but I’m not sure we _can_ get rid of Lydia. I think she’s around for the final three whether we like it or not.”

Derek moves slowly down the path, lingering on the walk with Stiles and hoping to talk strategy a little more. He’s suddenly determined to get into the final three with Stiles and somehow throw every bit of support behind him. He wants Stiles to win.

And if he doesn’t, maybe Derek will make sure Stiles gets an anonymous donation to help him out. He’s a good kid.

“So.” Stiles kicks at a piece of coconut shell on the ground. “How much of that did you hear, anyway? Since you were doing your evil lurker thing and eavesdropping.”

“Is _that_ the reputation I’ve got?” Derek’s surprised because glowering was intended, but _evil_ was definitely not on the list of traits that he and Laura had planned. “I’m not evil, Stiles. I’m just a guy who thought being on a deserted island might be an interesting adventure.” And maybe that’s a little more honest than he ought to be, because Stiles has stopped walking and is giving him a considering look, head tilted.

Stiles’s brow furrows, and he jabs a finger toward Derek. “You are not who you seem to be.”

“I do teach history in high school,” Derek says.

“You also have rock hard abs and carry things most humans can’t lift,” Stiles counters quickly. “You have a temper, but you’re not as much of an asshole as you pretend. You also actually gave a shit about Erica before she was voted off, but you haven’t allied with anyone else since. We’re down to six people left and you act like you don’t even care who makes it through the next vote.”

Which would be because he doesn’t. But Derek can’t admit that he’s only here to play the game. So he just shrugs and plays the silent, stoic role he cast himself in before he got here.

“We’re allied now,” Stiles says quietly. “You, me, and Lydia. Jackson goes home tonight, and the girls go in whatever order we can get them out after that. We don’t have much time left here, but we’re going through.”

“Why would you do that for me?” Because Derek is honestly curious. He hasn’t done _anything_ to earn his space here.

“For one, you’re up to something, and I need to keep an eye on you. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that shit. And for two, Lydia’s competition, and you’re not.” Stiles grins. “You can win the physical challenges, so it makes sense for you to make it to the finals. But no one _cares_. You haven’t screwed that many people over, sure, but you haven’t made an impression either. You’re flying under the radar, which means you’re boring. They’ll vote for the mastermind over the flunky every time.”

Derek can’t fault the logic in that. “And what if I’m playing you right now?” he asks.

“Then I’m the fool who’ll lose out on a million dollars,” Stiles says easily. “I’m willing to take the risk. After all, it’s a game, right?”

#

The thing is, from that point forward, it isn’t just a game. It’s a game that Derek is going to win for Stiles, whether Stiles likes it or not. Except he isn’t going to _tell_ Stiles this, he’s just going to move forward and try to be make sure Stiles somehow ends up in the final three, even if it’s at Derek’s expense.

It’s not as easy as it sounds in his head, either.

He tries so hard to throw the immunity challenge to Stiles that Jackson ends up somehow winning it because Derek doesn’t, which means they vote Kira off in a rushed plan that has Jackson thinking he’s still in good with Stiles and Lydia. That means that the next vote completely blindsides Jackson just when he thinks he’s safe, and Lydia is clutching immunity in her hands.

Allison catches on quickly, and corners Derek, giving him a rueful smile once they’re alone. “I’m next,” she says, and Derek doesn’t try to dissemble.

“I’m going to win immunity,” he tells her, because he _is_ , “and yes, it’s either you or Lydia.”

“It’s me,” she counters. “I know Stiles is tight with Lydia and has been since the first day we landed on the island. What’s scary is that Jackson never figured it out, even after Lydia’s mom let it slip that she has a fiancé at home during the friends and family challenge. And I love Lydia like a sister—we are not losing touch after this—but she’s ruthless and she will vote me off if that’s what she and Stiles have planned. But you need to know that I’m voting for you, just in case Lydia and Stiles change their mind and decide to take me with them. Because the only other thing we could do is try to tie it up, make it so we both vote for them.”

Derek hesitates. He could lie, and that would be the right move, but he just can’t make his mouth form the words.

Allison smiles, bright dimples in her cheeks. “That’s what I figured. Did you know that Lahey is my married name?”

It’s such a sudden switch that Derek frowns, confused. “We met your husband, yes.” He remembers Isaac from the friends and family reward challenge.

“My maiden name is Argent.”

And just like that, Derek’s world unravels. His mouth drops open slightly and he stares at her, not sure what to do with that little piece of information. When she touches his chin to close his mouth, he jerks back, wary.

“Kate’s my aunt,” she says quietly. “So yes, I knew who you were as soon as I heard your story. And I know it’s not a lie, or made up, and I know how much crazier it is than what you told everyone else. It’s a small world, isn’t it? But here’s the thing… you need to know just how small a world it really is, and what the producers are up to here.” Her voice drops low, barely audible to Derek’s ears, which means there is no way in hell a mic is picking up her words. “Stiles’s best friend works with my husband. And they have more in common with you than you’d expect.”

Allison smiles then, bright and beaming like a ray of sunshine. She leans in to hug him, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “I know my aunt was insane,” she assures him. “And I like you, Derek Hale. I might even miss you when we’re off this island, although I’m going to be _really_ glad to sleep in a bed again because some people are ridiculously warm. I’m not going to lie and say you have my vote at the end, because I don’t know yet. Lydia’s my new best friend, and Stiles is well, Stiles. But then there’s you, and strangely enough, you might deserve it most of all.”

She walks away, and Derek is left with the scent of her on his skin and her words rattling around in his mind. He knows exactly what she was trying to say, and he gets the feeling she’s the only one of them with enough information to put it all together. Maybe Allison’s husband, if he heard any of the stories about Kate during his brief stay, but that depends on what Allison’s told him about her life.

And that might not be all that much, considering what she just implied.

Derek scrubs a hand through his hair, rubs at the scruff on his face that has become a full on beard. The game’s almost over, and he has a feeling that for him, it might just be beginning.

#

It’s their last night on the island, and Stiles, Derek, and Lydia are tucked away under the tarp, cuddled together for warmth while watching their possessions burn. Lydia reaches under her shirt to pull out a bra and idly throws it onto the fire. “That thing is never coming clean,” she says quietly as she leans back against Stiles again.

“Dude, you are not leaning on me while free-boobing, that is so not fair,” Stiles complains.

“These are not your boobs, they are mine,” Lydia says tartly. “Which I know you know, so stop whining. Besides, you prefer balls to boobs anyway.”

They’ve put away three bottles of wine with their celebratory dinner, which accounts for the flush on Lydia’s and Stiles’s skin and the horrified look from Lydia as she realizes what she said. “I didn’t mean to out you on national television,” she whispers, and Stiles laughs.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says, and Derek relaxes slowly, tension leaking out of him. He offers an arm and Stiles leans into it, turning them into a long line of reclining on each other. “I’m pretty sure Derek doesn’t have an issue with it, and obviously you don’t, and honestly, my friends already know so I don’t care if someone else is going to choose now to have a problem with it.”

“I made out with a girl once,” Lydia says idly. “I’d make out with Allison if she weren’t married and I weren’t almost married. Although I bet Aidan would let me if he could watch. He’s such a pig sometimes.”

“No more wine for you.” Stiles takes the bottle from her and hands it over to Derek, who finishes it off with a long gulp.

“I’m bisexual,” Derek tells them, because it only seems right at this point. When Lydia gives him a startled look, he shrugs. “The women in my life made for _much_ better backstory than the men. And you don’t even know the half of how bad it was.”

Lydia starts wriggling, and it takes both of them to help her to her feet, where she wobbles slightly and throws out a hand to grab onto the edge of their structure and stabilize herself. “I need to pee,” she says as regally as she can manage, then she turns on her heel to walk away.

“You have one amazing dude story, you know,” Stiles says quietly. He leans against Derek’s side and tucks himself in close, his hand against his belly. It’s warm and comfortable, and Derek really doesn’t want to move any time soon.

“Hm?” Derek glances at Stiles only to find him looking at him from very close. “And what story is that?”

“This one.” Stiles lightly brushes his lips against Derek’s, enough to give him a taste that he wants more of, but not nearly enough to satisfy. Even with the small noise Stiles makes in the back of his throat, and the clear regret when he pulls back.

“I don’t think this story has been told yet,” Derek says quietly, and Stiles laughs.

“It’s just not finished. Give us time. But if you’re interested, after we get back…” Stiles lets his voice trail off, and Derek answers the best way he can, by lightly touching his cheek, angling them so he can slot their mouths back together and swallow any further words.

“Oh please, can’t you wait until we’re back home?” Lydia says, flopping back between them. “We’re sleeping tonight. We have a big day tomorrow, and I want to look pretty for it.”

Derek looks at Stiles over her head, and together they lightly comb their fingers through her strawberry blonde curls. “You always look pretty,” Stiles assures her. “And tomorrow you will look fucking brilliant.”

#

Derek loses track of the day before the final Tribal Council. There are fires, and long walks to look at posts with everyone’s name on them, and there are memories and private conversations with the camera crew. And in the end, they arrive to sit opposite the jury and Derek feels nerves twist in his stomach. As promised, Lydia _is_ beautiful, her hair carefully braided by Stiles and Derek together before they came in. Lydia and Stiles sit on the two stools in the front, and Derek sits between them and behind them, and they all manage to somehow get their hands between them and are touching fingers. It helps keep him in the here and now, because being _here_ is completely surreal.

In all his plans with Laura, he never really thought he’d get this close to winning. And he’d thought that if he did, he would _want_ to win.

Truth is, he wants to lose.

Matt is the first of the jury to ask questions, and he stands up, gaze sharp enough to make Derek glare back at him, eyes barely kept in check. Matt smiles, shows his teeth. “Derek, my question is for you. Is it true you’re a millionaire?”

“Billionaire.” He doesn’t even think about trying to keep it secret, not at this point. They’ll all know soon enough, and he’s made it this far so what does it matter, especially when he _wants_ them to throw their votes to Stiles.

Matt, on the other hand, seems surprised at the straight answer. “Then why did you do _Survivor_ and what are you going to do with the money if you win?”

“That’s a few more than _one_ question,” Jeff reminds him, but Derek holds up a hand.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind answering.” Derek stares at Matt, waits until he takes a step back. He remembers the day of the merge, when Allison and Stiles and Lydia had approached members of his tribe to gain enough support to throw Matt out. He’d heard later about how Matt had essentially stalked Allison, and Derek can see it in the way Matt leans toward her now, and Allison shifts away. Derek grins sharply, baring his own teeth in return.

“I did it because it sounded like fun. I like to get away from everything,” Derek explains. “And I like the show. I used to get really into watching it, trying to figure out who would win, and yelling at the screen when people did stupid things. So my sister Laura dared me to do it, and here I am. I’ve had fun, and I’ve made friends, and if I win, I’m going to at least match the same amount of money and give it away. There are shelters for homeless kids all over the country, and I want to support them.”

“Why not just give them your money anyway?” Stiles asks, and it’s not part of the way things are scripted, but Derek wants to explain so he just pushes past the _cut_ signal the director is giving. Whether it makes it into the final edit or not, he wants his words to get out.

“I did,” he says quietly. “I _do_. Every year. But this way, they get some more publicity and maybe people will look at them and other people will think about giving as well.”

“Kali.” Jeff’s voice brings them back to the situation at hand, and the fact that it’s time for the jury to pull out the dirty laundry, get the final contestants to all say what they’ve really been doing the entire time. Kali stands to throw the begin the bloodshed, and it is brutal, as each of the jury members dig deep in turn, but other than the truth of his wealth, the rest of Derek’s secrets stay safely _secret_.

In the end, when each of the final three has a moment to speak for themself, Derek wonders what Stiles and Lydia will say. He goes first, after drawing straws before the cameras started rolling, and he doesn’t bother to stand to say his piece.

“I didn’t think I’d get this far,” he says honestly. “And I’m glad I did. This has been an amazing experience, but I’m glad to be going home soon, too. However you vote, do what you need to do to feel like you did the right thing. If you want to take it out on me because you’re not the one sitting here, do that. If you think I don’t deserve the money, that’s fine too. I just wanted to play the game, and I did, and I’m here, and when you think about it, that’s better than anyone here, aside from Lydia and Stiles. So I’m good.”

Lydia gives a quick quiet speech about friendship and betrayal and how sorry she is for every time she stuck the knife in and twisted. She produces actual tears, and Derek is impressed while Stiles looks amused. It doesn’t seem to affect Jackson in the least, who glowers at her constantly, but Allison seems moved and uncertain.

Stiles stands for his speech, flailing his hands out and grabbing on to Derek’s shoulder to right himself. “When I said I’d gotten into _Survivor_ , my best friend Scott told me to be careful so I didn’t fall off a cliff or break my leg during a challenge. So yeah, hey, Scott,” he waves at the camera. “I didn’t do any of those things and it’s the last day, so we can count this as me winning that bet, okay?” He huffs a sigh, his smile turning wry. “I’m not going to give you a sob story—I have one, but it’s not something you deserve to hear. I’m not going to tell you how brilliant I am because you either already agree with that, or you think I’m an idiot, and either way, it’s not going to change your opinion. All I’m going to say is thank you. Thank you for playing the game with me, for falling before I did, and for keeping me from falling flat on my face so many times that I needed a med-lift out of here. And Lydia, Derek…” His voice wavers slightly as he looks at them. “Thank you for a brilliant last night here. I didn’t come on this show looking for friends, but I’ve found them, and I hope we keep in touch out there after this. I’m really glad we don’t have to vote against each other right now.”

“Me too,” Lydia says, catching at his fingers and squeezing gently, and Derek echoes the sentiment.

They have to sit and watch while each member of the jury goes up to cast a vote, speaking into the camera just out of range of Derek’s hearing, and folding the parchment neatly to put it in the urn. They can’t move while Jeff goes into the back and puts a lid on the urn, carrying it out and standing in front of them to announce that the winner will be revealed live on television when they get back to the States.

Jeff walks away, the camera crews following him, and Derek realizes that for the first time, they are all alone. There are no cameras, only producers quietly nudging them towards the transports, trying to separate the potential winners and keep people from talking as they move them out and back into the real world.

They have been on this island for thirty-nine days, and Derek has no idea how he’s going to function when he gets back to the real world.

#

They are put up in a hotel in Los Angeles, sequestered away from the world so that no spoilers can leak free. They are given a chance to eat all they want and regain a few pounds, although when Derek spots Stiles he still looks too skinny for comfort. Some of them mix—Lydia and Allison are inseparable—but overall they are kept apart lest they talk about the final vote.

They have three weeks to recover before they are put into limousines and transported to the theater where they sit quietly behind stage and watch the final episode together, while they hear the _oohs_ and _ahhs_ of the audience not far away.

The bit about Lydia’s bra makes it in, along with her casual outing of Stiles, who takes it in good humor. Her admission about Allison is left out, but Derek’s conversation with Stiles is right there on the screen, complete with the one gentle kiss, and the way they all piled together to sleep that night.

Derek is flushed when they are herded onto the stage and seated, with him behind Lydia and Stiles again, his fingers drifting across the curve of Stiles’s shoulder.

He ignores the speeches that come first because all he can see is the way Stiles is twisted around to look at him, a slight smile on his lips. They both manage to miss the final announcement, until Lydia shoves at Stiles and he turns around to see Jeff motioning him forward. Stiles points to his chest, mouths _me_ and Jeff laughs.

And that’s it. Stiles won.

Derek is grinning ear to ear, and he jumps up to say something, but he’s too late. Stiles has leapt off the stage and into the audience where his best friend Scott is hugging him hard. There are others there, too: an older man and an older woman. Derek loses track quickly, and he hovers there on the stage, not sure where to go or what to do.

“Come on.” Lydia tangles her fingers with his and draws him toward the chairs where the other contestants sit. She arranges them so that she is in the third seat and Derek is in the second, leaving the first for Stiles as winner. 

His gaze is still on Stiles, watching as he trips over the edge of the stage while hopping back up and stumbles without falling. When Stiles arrives, he flops into his chair and throws his arm out, his hand landing in Derek’s lap. He catches it automatically, and Stiles grins at him, holding on tight.

“So wow, that was a hell of a ride,” Jeff says, and Stiles laughs outright, head thrown back, free hand at his waist where his shirt rides up slightly.

“It was. And I’m kind of glad it’s over so I can go back to a normal life.” Stiles squeezes Derek’s fingers gently as he speaks. “Or as normal as it gets when people actually know who I am.”

“They know a lot about you now,” Jeff says, head tilted as if that is somehow significant. “Those were some strong revelations that came out in the end. Any regrets?”

Stiles twists his head to look at Derek, his grin gentling into a fond smile. “Yeah. Just two. I regret that I waited until the end to say anything to Derek, and I regret that we’ve had three weeks in this town and haven’t been able to spend it together.” He reaches out and palms the nape of Derek’s neck, tugging him forward and Derek goes willingly into the kiss.

This one isn’t soft or gentle. This one is hungry and claiming and full of intent and promises for later. This one makes Derek growl slightly, his eyes flashing where only Stiles can see, and he’s thankful that it doesn’t seem to change anything when it happens.

“Derek?”

He gets the impression from the laughter that Jeff’s probably said his name multiple times. “Yes, Jeff?”

“How do you feel about Stiles winning this round of _Survivor_?” Jeff asks.

Derek shakes his head. “I never cared about the money, Jeff. I got something I never expected going into this, so as far as I’m concerned, I’ve won. I don’t need anything more than this.” He drags Stiles back in, stealing just one more kiss before they are convinced to let the rest of the show roll onward.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
